Those bastards called memories
by starbuxx
Summary: Roy's mind is corrupting his day to day life. Only Riza can snap him out of it. Royai Possibly Post-Maes RoyxRiza


-1Yes. This be a fanfic. I believe u know what a fanfic is, correct? Yups! Dat der mean I do not own da peeps in the story. Got that? He he he… if I ownded da characters, it WOULD be in the storyline… I'm just an overly enthusiastic fan girl ;P  
Enjoi!

Roy Mustang bolted awake in his bed. His eyes were wide with a multitude of emotions, and his body was both shaking and sweating. His strong chest still heaving from the visions he had seen over and over. He closed his eyes, trying to sort through his mind about what has been tormenting his mind mercilessly at night for the past few days. His eyes darted around the room, making sure he wasn't still where his mind had taken him. He noticed that the bed covers had been carelessly thrown around. He figured that he must have been trashing about in the worst of his nightmares. He sighed, still shaking violently, and placed a hand over his eyes. "Why… the hell… these, memories…" he cursed and mumbled to himself before carefully lying down and trying to attain a peaceful rest.

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First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye had noticed the Colonel's odd behavior before anyone else. He started to come in later than he usually did, and would barge into the office in a rather foul mood. He didn't eat at lunch, but stayed in the office doing who-knows-what. He wasn't in his usual hurry to get home and away from the HQ, but what shocked her most, is that he actually did his paperwork. But he didn't do it calmly or in any such way, but in a furious frenzy, as if trying to cleanse his mind of other thoughts by distracting his brain with multitudes of information. And she noticed by the look in his eyes and by his unusually cold actions that his methods of distraction had no avail.

She really started to worry about him now. He was her superior, as well as her long-time friend, and she couldn't help but worry. Especially since she knew what he did during his bouts against grief and depression. Booze, attempts at suicide, all his methods that she knew all to well. She had been there to stop him so many times, and now she wondered what he would do to himself now. After all, she was not just his baby-sitter, but his body guard as well.

"Sir?" she said as she approached his desk in a rather cautious manner.  
"What is it, Lieutenant?" he almost barked at her. She could of sworn he growled.  
"Colonel, I have noticed you behaving rather, well, out of character lately…" she started but was rudely cut off.  
"Get to the point, Hawkeye." This time she knew he growled at her.  
"Are you alright? Is something bothering you Sir?" was really the only question that wouldn't seem too out-of-uniform. What she really wanted to say was "Talk to me. I am here for you." but these were the forbidden words, and she held her tongue.

He paused, only looking at her through the corner f his eye before hesitantly replying. "It is none of your concern." He practically hissed at her.

Oh, at that, she just wanted to lash out at him and yell at the top of her lungs. "Of COURSE it is my concern! How can you even IMAGINE that it isn't?! Roy Mustang, stop holding everything inside, damnit!" But instead she remained standing firm and straight, holding her emotions and words back.  
She merely muttered a "Yes, Sir." before turning to her desk.

Roy couldn't understand why the hell he had just lashed out at his lieutenant like that. 'Roy Mustang! What the hell? What did she do to you? She was just asking…' Roy slapped his head. 'Aww… damnit Roy! Why did I have to be such an ass… and to her of all people!' he mentally disciplined himself. But he wasn't distracted by his senseless actions for quite long at all, before the evil demons called 'relapse' crept there way out of hell and into his mind.

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It was 9:00 at night at Central HQ. Most military personnel had left, accept for the Colonel and his Lieutenant. Roy was just sitting there, just sitting, avoiding home and sleep for as long as he could. Always the procrastinator.

Riza had been curiously and worriedly watching over him before suggesting to go home. He mumbled to himself about "… now why the hell would I do that… I know what's waiting for me…" before standing up and retrieving his jacket before leaving. She didn't know what he was talking about, but she was grateful that now he was at least semi-responsive. She quickly got up, gathered her things and left to met him before he left the building.

"Colonel." she said as she caught up to him, every blonde strand of hair still in place. "Hmm… yes lieutenant?" he asked lazily, as if distracted.

Before she could respond, he awoke to his senses and apologized for his, well, bitchiness earlier. "Hawkeye, I, uhh…. I'm sorry I lashed out at you earlier today. Its just, well… I guess you can say I have a lot on my mind." he said. He was truly sorry, and he regretted his previous actions. He was actually on the verge of blushing, but kept the crimson pent up inside.

"Sir, do not mention it. I understand," she told him as they both walked down the Headquarter steps. "I just wish that you would talk to someone when you are upset…" she told him, eyes downcast.

He looked at her, and a puzzled, almost amused look ran across his face. "So its really that obvious, huh?" she nodded in response. He let out a small, weak chuckle.

"Sir, may I accompany you on your walk home tonight?" Riza turned to him, asking a question that stopped him in his tracks. Before his mind went to the gutter, he realized what she meant. She only wanted to make sure he didn't go off to a bar or so anything foolish or stupid. Or worse. He nodded his reply. "Very well, Hawkeye." as they continued on.

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The whole walk was filled with the annoying sound of nothingness. He didn't utter a single word to her, nor did she to him. Riza momentarily glanced up at him, only to see his head down and eyes glazed over. His mind was constricted with disturbing memories, visions, and anything that could come to mind. His past wouldn't leave him alone.

He would have kept on walking forever if she didn't tug on his sleeve to alert him that they had arrived at his apartment. He fumbled with his keys and opened up the door.

Riza stood outside as he entered. Her eyes were downcast, but he could tell that they were worried sick. "Thank you, Lieutenant, goodnight." he bade her farewell but before closing the door, she spoke. "Sir, I feel… uneasy about leaving you alone tonight…" She said, in her usual, unwavering voice, but in a much quieter tone.

He looked at her, and realized that standing before him was a loyal friend with a worried heart. He knew what she was getting at. She knew him better than to assume he would weather through it. Roy was going to hit the booze and down a few fractions of scotch to ease his troubled mind after she left, but his plans hadn't a chance now. "Very well, Hawkeye," he mumbled his consent and opened the door wide to invite her in.

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The Colonel's apartment was far from orderly. It was quite tousled with the strong, pungent odor of scotch hanging thick in the air. Riza looked to her superior officer. She saw a depressed, bothered man looking for something to empty his feelings into. But when that something, or someone, was set in front of him, he'd only push it away, forever locking his torment inside. He grumbled some unintelligible words to an invisible someone. When he re-entered reality, he turned to her. "Oh, Hawkeye, you can take the bed, if you wish." He mumbled to her, remembering his manners. 

"Sir, thank you, but there is no need. The couch is fine…. Besides, you need a proper night's rest." she told him as they bid each other their goodnights. 'Besides,' her mind voiced her unspoken words, 'sleeping in my superior's bed? That can't be a good thing.' she gave a little smirk at the thought of herself in Roy Mustang's bed; the infamous bed where those perverted office stories came from. She simply sighed at the thought, while taking off her military jacket, exposing the black undershirt, and took the clip out of its place in her golden locks, letting her long hair fall over her shoulders. She then laid herself on her superior's couch, hoping they both could get a good rest under the circumstances.

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When Roy Mustang entered his bed room, the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. Well, in a way. He would have loved to actually get a worth-wile rest, but those damned nightmares haunted him mercilessly, floating around in his mind, unleashing themselves in painful bursts.

He simply laid there in his unmade bed. His hand reached out and fumbled into the end table and reached to grasp his hand around a bottle of whiskey. He held the bottle above him, in front of his face, only to see that he had drunken four fifths of it from previous nights of mental torment. He sighed, shrugged, and down the rest of the foul liquid and promptly passed out. 

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Riza awoke to the sound of glass breaking in her superior's bedroom. She immediately stood up and ran to his door. "Colonel? Is everything alright? I heard something shatter…" She said as she knocked on the cold mahogany door.

Roy was on the other side of the door, sitting on the side of his bed, panting like and overworked dog. His face was buried in his hands, only separating his fingers to see the glass bottle of whiskey shattered into many thousands of crystalline peaces, scattered on the hardwood floor. He had trashed about during his sleep, and a result of such actions ended in his arm carelessly knocking the emptied container onto the floor, obliterating its existence.

"Sir?" she asked again, putting an ear to the door. His lack of response worried her. He ran a hand through his raven hair, setting free an angered sigh.

"Sir?" she asked again, a worried tone crept into her voice. She opened the door with a shaking hand, still pondering if to open the door or call from the outside. Without actually making a decision first, she opened the door to see her superior in a sad state.

Roy Mustang was sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking uncontrollably. A hand was raised over his face to conceal the depressed and angered expression that shadowed his handsome features. He was shirtless, wearing only black sweatpants with two thin white stripes going down either leg. A cloud of despair and anger, and even a hint of loneliness tainted the air around him.

"Colonel. I heard a, umm, are you alright?" Riza warily asked her superior. She made a single step into the doorway, before she saw his hand slip from his face. It did not stray to far, mind you, but enough to show a burning ferocity in his eyes. She took her step back after seeing his usually stunning ebony eyes in that state of torment. The eyes that could make almost any woman immediately swoon, now were hidden behind layers of exhaust and torment.

He was not mad at her, he was mad at his nightmares. Memories. He was angered with himself, for not feeling like he can open up to someone. He was angry. Depressed. Lonely. And he couldn't take it anymore. 

He shot up and walked rather quickly out of his bedroom, almost carelessly coming into contact with his lieutenant's shoulder. She followed him out, still anticipating an answer.

"Colonel… please, tell me what is wrong? What is bothering you? You have started acting spacey, you are distracted at work, and now you can't sleep through the night. And you apparently haven't talked to anyone…" He span to her, looking her dead in the eyes with a cold, yet pleading stare. His eyes simply stopped her mid-sentence.

"It is none of your concern, Lieutenant Hawkeye" Roy curtly cut her off. His response felt like blades to her, but she would not let it slip through her usual set-in-stone façade. He turned away, slightly stung by the taste of his own words on his tongue. 'Jackass,' he mentally mulled over the title he officially bestowed upon himself. That did not last long.

"Roy! Of COURSE it is my concern!" Riza was now fuming at him, her façade breaking through like an old faulty dam. He was truly shocked and even astounded at her…. uncharacteristic actions. But he would have actually processed what was going on in his mind if he wasn't so consumed in his sleepless depression.

Riza continued on. "Sir! When you made me your lieutenant, you put me in charge of protecting you. That also falls under the lines of emotional, as well as mental. Sir, please, talk to me. It will help--"

Her words were cut off by his strong hands pinning her by her wrists to the nearest wall. His grip was strong, but she decided not to writhe out of his grasp.

He was looking down at her, eyes ablaze, voice barking. "Well, Hawkeye, how do YOU know that? You aren't haunted by memories like these? These tormenting bastards called nightmares." He looked down at her, only to see her amber, unwavering eyes glaring right back into his gaze. Her gaze surprised him. "Roy, the memories haunt me, too. They still hurt all of us. I just try to stop the past from holding me back, so I can pay attention to what is important now." Her words were spoken as truthful as they can get, her voice did not shake or waver at all.

Roy looked down to the side, disgusted with himself in so many ways. He slowly released her arms, witch dropped back in place by her sides. He stepped back, only slightly, fists quivering. 'She.. Damn… she has the same problem…' Just by looking into his downcast eyes, she could tell what was running through his mind.

"Si-- Roy… Everyone who was in the Ishbal War feels the same pain." she comforted the downcast colonel as she took his arm and led him to the couch. " Tell me all about it."

He soon realized that the lieutenant was lying on the couch; her head propped up by the arm rest. Roy was lying on his back on her front, his head resting on her gently rising and falling chest. He couldn't take it anymore. He completely poured his stories out, as she whispered comforting words to him as she stroked his hair. He told her every incriminating detail, and he didn't notice the tears rolling down his cheeks. She would wrap her arms around him even tighter when he started to choke up.

She knew that they were way, WAY out of line. She was holding, hugging, soothing her superior officer. She was laying little kisses into his hair. He was opening his heart, mind, and soul up to her; his lieutenant. Thing like this were not supposed to happen. They were considered wrong. Even illegal. But he needed this, and so did she.


End file.
